


In Defense of Online Dating

by HolisticPanda



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolisticPanda/pseuds/HolisticPanda
Summary: Furiosa gets catfished. Sort of.
Relationships: Furiosa/Max Rockatansky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	In Defense of Online Dating

**Author's Note:**

> Going through my file of abandoned fics and finishing what I can in an attempt to get back into writing at least a LITTLE bit.

Furiosa glanced at the time on her phone and frowned, not for the first time, at the stark white numbers glaring back at her.

7:23pm. 

He was _late_.

And not just a little late either considering that they were supposed to be meeting at 7.

Frankly, she didn’t know why she was still waiting for him to show. Normally she’d give the other person at _most_ a fifteen minute grace period because she understood more than most that things happened, but she’d already sent him a couple of messages asking where he was or if he was stuck in traffic only to receive crickets in reply. The asshole had gone dark on her.

She let out a frustrated sigh, leaning her chin more heavily on her palm. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been stood up by a man or woman who’d gotten cold feet at the last minute. It was just one of the hazards of online dating she had come to accept, though she truly hadn’t seen it coming this time. He’d seemed so overly eager to meet her, suggesting dinner at a small, local Italian restaurant instead of the usual first date of coffee or drinks like she was used to, and in her surprise she’d agreed.

For once Furiosa had even allowed her friends—a gaggle of younger women she worked with—to pick out her clothing and slather her in more makeup than she’d worn in years, each of them more excited than the last. After seeing his profile they had all looked so hopeful and certain that this guy, Max, was perfect for her and would be _the one_. She didn’t want to let them down, and truthfully, she’d sort of been looking forward to it too. His kind, blue grey eyes and oddly plump lips had immediately attracted her to him, and they seemed to share a lot of similar interests besides. It had been awhile since she’d come across anyone that truly excited her, so the disappointment she felt was especially crushing.

She had to wonder what it was about herself that had scared him away. Maybe it was her missing left forearm, or her taller than average height, or the fact that she kept her light brown hair cropped short. Maybe he'd never intended on meeting her at all and just got his kicks from leading women on.

It truly wouldn’t have bothered her so much if he hadn’t asked her out to _dinner_ where she could watch other happy couples give her pitying glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. She wouldn’t have been so angry if she didn’t need to deal with the waitress constantly giving her a false cheery smile every time she came by to refill her glass of water or passive aggressively ask her if she wanted to go ahead and order in a way that was quickly grinding on her nerves.

She glanced at her phone again and sighed again. 7:30. Fuck it.

Clenching her jaw, she snatched up her menu and scanned the dinner specials, intent on not letting him completely ruin her evening. She’d always been fine doing things on her own anyway, and there was a perfectly good dive around the corner where she could probably find someone to help her forget the asshole whose name she was already working to scrub from her mind. When the waitress eventually came back around to check on her she ordered the chicken parmesan off of the specials menu and a glass of wine and tried not to think too hard about the woman taking both menus with her as she left.

Her phone buzzed barely a minute later, and instead of the message coming from Max like she'd hoped it was instead one of her friends—the bright-eyed and ever curious Cheedo—asking how things were going and if she needed a ripcord to exit a potentially terrible date.

She was too disappointed to respond so she didn't, setting it back down on the table in front of her, and it was only then that she noticed the maitre'd bustling towards her little booth in the corner along with a panting, red faced man in tow. A man whose clothing was disheveled like he’d gotten dressed in a hurry and one that she recognized as the very person she’d been waiting over half an hour for.

“I thought you weren’t gonna show,” she murmured coolly as the hostess walked away, leaving behind a menu and a promise to send over their waitress. While she was still angry that he was so late, at least he’d shown and actually looked exactly like his pictures; handsome, with the same steel blue eyes and abnormally plush lips that had attracted her to him in the first place. Doing what she could to wipe away some of her frustration she stood and forced a smile, reaching out her hand for him to take. “Furiosa, but you already knew that.”

He blinked at her hand like he didn't know what the gesture meant and slowly shook his head. “Sorry—I’m not—I need to apologize.”

Her anger cooled a little more as he _did_ look genuinely apologetic, and hell, he was here. “It’s fine, I’m sure you have a good reason for being so late,” she said as his hand hesitantly slid into hers, not so subtly hinting that yes, he _was_ going to explain himself, and more than that his explanation had better be a damn good one. She took her seat again and was concerned when he didn't do the same, his hands now gripping at the hem of his old leather jacket anxiously.

“No, ah, my daughter made the profile. I didn’t know…” he trailed off then, his eyes briefly closing as he struggled to get his thoughts in order. “I thought the least I could do was let you know in person.”

Furiosa blinked at this revelation, thoughtfully sitting back against the worn fake leather as she recalled seeing a couple of pictures of him with a dark-haired girl who looked to be just shy of thirteen years old. “Oh. I guess that explains why your profile said that I 'must not be an evil stepmother type.' It’s apparently a huge red flag, by the way.” He didn't quite smile in return, but sensing that she wasn't _too_ upset about the situation the worry lines around his eyes and mouth noticeably smoothed. “Well, since you're already here, you might as well sit for a minute and catch your breath. You seem exhausted.”

For a brief moment he looked as if he might decline and was pleased when he instead jerkily nodded, sliding into the small booth across from her. He drained the glass of water in front of him in one long chug, sighing with relief, and since he still looked completely worn out she pushed her own nearly full glass of water over to him. She watched him pick up the glass and finish her cup just as quickly, smirking at the few droplets that slipped from the corners of his lips to drip down his chin.

“Your daughter’s a pretty sharp kid," she said when he seemed to be done drinking. "I thought a few things were worded strangely, but it was honestly much more coherent than most of the other dating profiles I come across.”

Max snorted and shook his head, wiping at his jaw with one of his sleeves. “Don’t I know it. Sometimes I truly don’t know what to do with her.” He looked exasperated, but there was a small smile on his face and an obvious fondness in his voice as he spoke of his daughter that made her eyes soften. It was a smile she suddenly realized she wanted to see more of, and her mind worked overtime to think of ways to keep him there.

“So,” she started, drawing the word out and hoping to take advantage of his improved mood, “Have you eaten yet?”

Like a switch was flipped his expression immediately shuttered, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Should be getting home. Glory’s supposed to be grounded.”

“Your daughter?” she asked disappointed, and he nodded. “Can’t you start her punishment tomorrow? I won’t mind.” She turned up the charm then, leaning forward and smiling and feeling grateful for the low-cut dark blouse her friends had insisted on. The action felt a little unnatural, but it had the desired effect as his eyes widened minutely and his tongue darted out to lick at his lips. She watched him struggle heroically to keep his eyes on hers, to not let his gaze lower to her chest, and when he reached for the menu in front of him to flip it open she allowed herself to feel a small sense of victory.

"Do you need to take a look too?" he offered after a minute of perusing the cheap laminated paper.

Furiosa shook her head. “I went ahead and ordered when I figured I'd been stood up.”

“Who would stand _you_ up?” he asked, forehead creasing incredulously. His ears reddened in a way that she couldn’t help but think was absolutely adorable as his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth. “Because it’s rude. That.”

She watched him squirm under her amused gaze, ignoring the heat in her own cheeks while enjoying the color spreading in his, but the moment is ruined by their waitress suddenly reappearing. She refilled their glasses while primarily staring down at Max, and Furiosa tried not to look as smug as she felt when the woman glanced over at her jealously.

“Would you like to order something, sir, or do you need more time to look over the menu?”

“Ah, no, I’ll just have the lasagna. Please." He folded the menu shut and handed it up to her, either not noticing or not particularly caring that she was staring at him incredulously.

”Of course. We’ll have that right out.” She flit her gaze between the two of them one more time before turning on her heel and striding away, missing the slow grin that spread across Furiosa’s face in response. Her reaction was almost enough to sate her annoyance at having to wait half an hour for him to show up. _Almost_.

"So what was your daughter's plan, exactly?" Furiosa asked once their server was out of earshot.

Max shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure. She begged me for about an hour to take her here for dinner, and when I kept refusing she finally told me about you and the profile. She had to have known I’d punish her for it, but I guess she was hoping it’d go well enough that I wouldn’t be too mad."

"How much of that is true, anyway? Your profile, I mean.”

He shrugged again and uncomfortably cleared his throat. "I haven't seen it. I made her delete it right before I came here."

"Oh." She felt a little disappointed that she couldn’t pull it up to look at his pictures anymore like she’d been doing in the days leading up to their date, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud. "Then, do you like cars?"

His eyes lit up and his face twisted into something resembling a grin, and just like that she knew they were going to get along fine.

While she’d been worried that his daughter might have made up a lot of things in an effort to woo her, she was pleasantly surprised to find that for the most part he lived up to her expectations. He was twitchier and much more cautious than the persona she'd been texting back and forth with for the past few days, but by the time their meals had arrived his shoulders had finally relaxed enough to where it didn’t look like she was holding him hostage.

“I should’ve gotten the lasagna,” Furiosa said, staring enviously at his plate. Her own meal looked _fine_ , but the gooey cheese and steaming sauce seeping out of his dish made her mouth water.

Max smiled at her obvious longing. “We can share, if you want.”

“Really?” she asked, a little surprised by the offer. He was already cutting his giant square in half, not looking bothered by it in the very least.

“Sure. Glory and I do it all the time.” He slid half of his meal onto her plate, and when he’d finished she did the same for him. She then immediately dug into the lasagna first, groaning and rolling her eyes at the richness of the dish. It was better than she’d imagined it’d be, and before she knew it she was scraping her plate with the edge of her fork.

With her hunger sated Furiosa sat back and stared at him from over her glass of wine, scrutinizing him with narrowed green eyes. “You’re a good guy,” she finally said.

He paused, fork halfway to his mouth, to look up at her uncertainly. “Um. Thanks?”

“I just mean...why are you still single?”

He shook his head and dropped the utensil, eyes falling away from hers. “No time. I have work, and raising a daughter’s a full time job on its own. And you’ve seen what can happen when I take my eyes off of her for a second,” he joked. “What about you? Why are you single?”

Furiosa rolled her eyes with a wry, crooked grin. “I’m sure you can think of a few reasons.”

“I really can’t.” He stared back at her so seriously that it made her cheeks flush; a flush that quickly spread from her face and down to the rest of her body. A ripple of _something_ bubbled beneath her skin as she looked at him in disbelief, and then she needed to take another sip from her glass of wine to hide her smile.

Being with him felt fun and easy in a way she hadn't experienced in a long time, and more than that she'd _really_ like to have a little fun with him, but the way he kept worriedly glancing at his watch every five minutes told her that was probably out of the question. If she didn’t know that his daughter was waiting at home alone for him she might have been insulted by his seeming eagerness to leave.

Much too soon the waitress came by with the cheque, and right as she began to reach for it to calculate her share he quickly snatched it away.

"No, I’ve got it. Least I can do for all...this,” he mumbled, waving a vague hand.

Furiosa lifted an eyebrow and frowned. She usually liked to pay her own way on first dates to temper any sort of expectations the other person might have, but he’d already slipped his credit card inside the leather check presenter and she doubted anything would be happening that night besides. 

As unfortunate as that was. 

“Then I’ll pay for the next one.” At his bewildered, puzzled look she smiled uncertainly. “Date, I mean.”

She watched his eyes widen, and he looked so surprised that for a moment she worried that maybe she’d misread his interest. But then he smiled and nodded, something like relief pouring into his expression. "I'd like that."

All too soon the waitress returned with their receipt, and then they were gathering their things to leave. He walked her out to the dim parking lot, and once outside she checked the time on her phone and grimaced. In the end they'd only spent a little over an hour together.

She leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips, the plushness of them sending a not insignificant shock of pleasure down her spine.

“Call me tomorrow?” she breathed, still standing close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his beat up leather jacket and huffed. “I don’t have your number.”

“Your _daughter_ does.” She trilled her fingers at him and climbed onto her bike, and after securing her helmet she turned to look at him, the fondness in her eyes hidden beneath the dark glass. She’d known their _waitress_ longer than she’d known him, but somehow she never wanted them to be apart. “Goodnight, Max.”

She started up her bike and backed it out of the space, and with a final nod in his direction she slowly drove out of the little parking lot, watching him grow smaller and smaller in her side mirror until she could no longer see him at all.

* * *

Max paused at the front door of his house, hand and key hovering halfway to the lock. His thoughts were still on the short, whirlwind date he’d just had with the woman with the strange name, and even more than that on how much he wanted to see her again. It defied logic how stuck he was on her, how after only an hour of eating and talking he knew that she was someone who could easily become very special to him.

It’d been years since his last disastrous relationship—a woman who’d largely ignored his daughter and demanded more of his time than he’d had to give—but somehow he knew Furiosa would be different. Somehow, he knew that she’d be understanding of and maybe even eager to get to know the most important person in his life.

“ _You're_ awful late,” Glory said once he’d finally opened the front door, smiling widely from where she was waiting for him at the kitchen counter. Her large blue eyes shone with unhidden mischief beneath her dark curly hair. “Thought you was just gonna apologize and come right back?”

Max grunted and hung his jacket up on a hook next to the door, purposefully avoiding her gaze. “Was already there. Decided to go ahead and eat something.” He watched her eyes light up and then narrowed his own. “And you're still grounded.”

The girl puffed out her cheeks and leaned forward on her elbows, resting her chin in her hands. “Well, can you at least tell me how it went?"

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help thinking about the intense green of her eyes and the playful tilt of her lips and before he knew it a full on grin was spreading across his face. He ducked his head to hide it, waving her towards the staircase. “Go to bed.” 

She pouted a little bit more, not bothering to hide her disappointment, and slunk away from the table to head up to her room. She'd made it about halfway up the stairs before he inwardly groaned and turned to stop her. “Wait.” He ran a hand through his shaggy, uneven hair and sighed. “Give me her number.”

Glory audibly gasped. “Yes yes yes yes yes! I knew it!” She ran up and threw her arms around his waist, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. He rolled his eyes, and despite the fact that he was _supposed_ to be upset with her he wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders to return the hug.

It was hard to be mad at someone who’d introduced him to the most interesting person he’d met in years.


End file.
